


Portals

by NightingaleComics



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics)
Genre: Amnesiac Bruce, Angst, Bruce Needs a Hug, Gen, Hits You In The Feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-06 08:41:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5410313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightingaleComics/pseuds/NightingaleComics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the hallway of Wayne Manor sits seven locked doors. Bruce doesn't know why and must investigate. This leads to more questions then answers for the memory less man and he tries to figure out these rooms and who lived behind those doors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Room of Birds

Amnesic Bruce short Story  
PORTALS

AN/ So we all have had our fill of DC lately and how crappy they are to our babies sometimes. Don't disagree, we've all been there. But the one thing that has bugged me so much was what has happened to the boys and their stuff when Bruce wakes up again. But he doesn't remember the boys. So this happened.

Disclaimer: If I had ever owned Batman, I would not have just kicked the boys to the curb and left them to the rain and the villains. We'd also get a whole lots more Daddy!Bats. so no, I do not own these. I probably never will.

The First  
Wayne Manor

The man walked past the hallways of doors next to his room for days before he got the urge to even figure out why they were always locked. The manor contained countless other empty rooms- were these any different? Alfred didn't close the doors to the others, so why did the man lock those?

The rather normal oak doors sat locked for more days after that, awaiting the return of those that lived in them. None entered but Alfred on his daily cleanings. The items inside were just the same as always. It was a Saturday morning that the first was cracked open. The birds outside were chirping and it was a rather beautiful and cheerful day. Even the harsh wind had gentled to something no one could describe, except…. Playful.

Bruce didn't think any of it when he had picked this room- it was merely the one closest to his bedroom. His hand gripped the knob and swung the door inwards.

Inside, it was not just another empty guest room Bruce saw. This room had been lived in, and quite recently too. On the floor lay several piles of clothes. Which ones were clean or dirty, was anyone's guess. The older man could just hear Alfred's scolding voice in the background as he looked around. The walls were decorated with a 'Haly's Circus' posters. The one that was displayed the most proudly sat above the queen sized bed. On it were three acrobats dressed in blue and stylized wings on their costumes. Their name were the Flying Graysons.

On the unmade bed sat an array of papers like the owner had been busy studying. Several stacks of college course books were made into a bedside table as well. A basketball sat on top of them. There was a desk in the room as well. It had been littered with papers and books alike.

Looking around, Bruce wondered again what had happened to the owner of this room. It was so vibrant and happy but underneath all of that, was the sense that this was someone who he should know as important. The man didn't know what, nor have a clue. And that was what bugged him the most.

Bruce closed his eyes painfully, as he forced himself to remember but he still could not. Giving up, the older man's hand left the handle of the door and made its journey softly across the textbooks. On the dresser were pictures. Growing curious, Bruce picked one up, but the people in it weren't familiar. There were four boys and three girls. All of the boys were laughing at something, while the blonde in the picture glared furiously as she was wiping something off her face. In the background were two more blacked haired girls. Smiles graced both of their lips, even if they were a little mischievous.

"Who are you? I must have known." Bruce's voice echoed within the empty memorial. Scattered throughout the other pictures were the same seven kids, varying through the years. Most of them were happy, but there were several that were sadder.

The man sat the picture down beside the others and continued his search in finding out what his brain had decided to forget. On the wall beside the window, there hung an autographed Superman poster. Just seeing it, Bruce felt mild irritation. The billionaire didn't know why, but he felt like there could have been something better to hang there. Beside it, the window seat had been covered in pillows and blankets alike.

'A Nest, Bruce. All birds make nests.' A voice seemed to echo in the heavy air. The voice was not one Wayne recognized but there was a definite laughter to the tone. It just reinforced his belief that he had lost something very important.

The man pulled himself from his thoughts when he saw a picture of a younger him with two other boys. The similarities between the three stopped Bruce in his tracks. Their faces were alike! They all had those unmistakable blue eyes and black hair, just like him.

With a gasp, Bruce fell to the floor, closing his eyes. Why couldn't he remember? These children must have been important to him! But how, dammit?! How were they so special?'


	2. Room of Lionhearted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Holy Crap! Look at all of those views and followers and comments. You guys are amazing, seriously. I didn’t expect this reaction, all I was doing was getting issues off my chest. To calm you all guys down, yes I am continuing. There will be more to bite your teeth into. Hopefully I can attain to your high standards and impress you.

Bruce avoided that Hallway for days after he went into the first room. The man had been shying away from that part of the house for days now. If Alfred noticed, the Butler never said a word.  
So Bruce continued his days trying to remember the reason behind seven simple oak doors and their significance to their unknown occupants. It wouldn’t change anything, he was afraid. Bruce was afraid once that he found out who they were, he would disappoint them countless times because he didn’t remember. He couldn’t remember and that led to his despair and those entryways.  
But on the other side of Gotham, in a dingy café sat four brothers who had their whole lives ripped apart with the loss of their single ever present parent.  
All of the people who had lived and laughed together throughout the ages felt the loss. It was like parts of their souls had been taken and their bodies beaten. It left them hollow and empty, staring at their coffee mugs with the same dull eyes.  
Bruce didn’t understand. Every little detail about his childhood home seemed off. He was afraid of saying it was too quiet, but wasn’t the manor always this quiet before? The man had been an only child. It wasn’t the sounds of parties and other events that he missed. Frankly the 40ish man found those quite ridiculous in themselves. He didn’t rightly know what it was.  
But the man kept trying to ruffle a chil- no maybe it was him petting the Great Dane at his side. Yes, that was all.  
In the end, Bruce would forever blame the dog for getting him back in front of those blasted doors. Titus, who Bruce looked at exasperated would not leave that room alone. Finally, after much complaining and trying to move the animal, Bruce gave in. Which wasn’t saying much because one) Great Danes are about the size of a small horse- you won’t move them unless they wanted to. Secondly, that Great Dane inherited his master’s stubbornness- in reality, it was from Bruce after all.  
Sighing, blue eyes stared at the door for minutes while Titus whined pathetically from the side. His front paw would lift off the floor like he was going to scratch the door but instead, the paw was placed back onto the hardwood floor.  
Inside Bruce’s mind were a turbulence of thoughts but over top all of the doubts and fears was a scoffing young voice. –Tt- I’d thought you weren’t a coward, Father.  
Opening the door knob was probably one of the hardest things in Wayne’s life, but did it he did. Inside was a bed with almost perfect military precision. Even the corners which were folded would have made Alfred secretly proud.  
Barely anything adorned the walls, but what was there was a great puzzlement. An Arabic tapestry from the 5 th century hung on one side. How the man knew these details he would never know.  
On the window sill lay a sketchbook. It’s content hidden from the world. The window was slightly cracked open.  
Titus, who had been beside him for this walked ahead like he did this every night- the dog curled up on the middle of the bed. Somber brown eyes staring at the man hopefully.  
“Who lived here, Titus?” Bruce asked, as a black tuxedo cat walked in from the window. Its attitude was very haughty as he walked no pranced towards the head of the bed. He flicked his tail with disdain right into the dog’s face and dragged it across before perching himself on the bedpost.  
The antics of the animal brought a very strange thought to the man’s head. A princely brat just like his owner. Those words were so foreign yet natural to Bruce.  
Looking around, the man found a picture of a scowling boy whose features were so familiar as three others were laughing.  
Bruce heard those voices. ‘Drake! Grayson! I demand that you put me down this instant. I will not be laughed at and mauled! Todd, help me you arrogant fool!’  
That voice… who was that voice? The feeling that the man was missing something dreadfully life changing important hit Bruce like a large wave.  
So Bruce searched and searched. Trying to gleam information from the meager possessions in this ‘child’s room’.  
A child by the look of things that had to grow up much too soon. Displayed proudly was a Katanna sword on the wall, but there underneath on a bookshelf sat an ipod. Books ranging in sizes lined the shelves. Boring books to engineering to a couple well used copies of Narnia and Lord of the Rings.  
How can I, Bruce Wayne, have changed this fierce little lionhearted solider into a child if I can’t even remember him?  
What good was he doing to these children? For the rooms so far have been that of children, all of them not yet fully grown to leave the nest just yet. What was he to these children, if he couldn’t remember them?! They must have been important! He must find them!  
Together the princely cat, the lonesome dog and the forgetful man sat on the bed till long past the moon had risen.


	3. Room of Laughter

PORTALS3

 

Bruce opened the third door in less time then it took to get up the nerve of the second. He entered that third entryway only days later. This room was vastly different from the others. For one, it belonged to a girl. It was a room that was closer to the first one.  
The thing that made it different, was the fact that everything in it was well used but shied away from being expensive. It was a room showing house crappy it's occupant was. A sewing machine way in the corner buried under a purple cloak.   
A pile of books were stacked in the corner, sheets of paper stuff between their covers. On the walls were so many pictures tacked. Most of them involve some form of happiness.   
The thing they all shared was that of a blonde. Blue eyes shone with so much life. Bruce didn't know how but everything about this one-he was too afraid to claim them as his-spoke of perseverance and strength.   
Underneath a pillow, partially covered by the cloth with an old picture. It wasn't framed and they're worse creases and tatters. giving it the well-worn look. The small window portrayed that of a happy moment. an older blonde in a nursing scrub holding a younger version of the two. Even then, it looked like there was laughter in her eyes and dressed in purple.  
Bruce's eyes closed painfully as he turned away from it. this was once a happy child, even though a messy one. the man had to puck his way through the piles and boxes everywhere.   
A stack of faded papers fell as the man turned to leave. They crashed to the floor with a suspiciously heavy 'thud'. Growing more curious, the man picked them up. A wrapped gift was revealed underneath.   
The tag read 'Bruce, sorry I had to miss the special day. -Steph.'   
"What day?" Bruce placed the forgotten pieces on the desk before handling the gift.   
It wasn't a very heavy thing. The right proportions to be that of a journal. So he unwrapped it, being careful not to damage the colorful covering.   
Inside, wad a scrapbook with pictures of all of these people he didn't know. Apparently, the man should have.   
'Pictures of family.' The very thought sent the prince of Gotham to the floor. His knees hitting the wooden floor but given no thought of. 'I have a family'. Did they leave because of him?  
The man scanned each picture meticulously with a new understanding in his eyes. Underneath the snapshots of a former life were names. He could find them! He could search countless cities and towns but with names, he had a chance.   
The book was read until the end page where delicate script was written. 'In case you ever lose is, you will never forget us. Little Demon and the others will never admit it but you make the best dad for us' scattered throughout the note were drawings of everything under the sun. All of this had been done in a rainbow of colors, however purple was the one that dominated.   
Several other handwritten words were scattered across the page. They all had been done by different hands, Bruce could instantly tell.   
'Bruce, don't forget to smile, okay? And tell Alfred to stock up on the Trix! You people never have it when I come by. That's gonna make an emergency.' It was signed with a scribbled hand, reminding the man of a young child.   
'Father, due to Fatgirl's persistence I must write this- I am proud to claim a mighty warrior as yourself as my parent.' This reminded him of the room yesterday. It was simply signed as 'Damian.'  
'Just don't forget about us one day, old man.' That one was a new hand, one he had never seen before. The tone was different then true others, 'Jason' was hastily written in sloppy form. The color of the ink had been a dark red- and stood harshly against the cream paper.   
Bruce let the book drop, pain welling up inside of him. It clutched at everything, constricting the man's throat with emotion.   
These were his children! And even if Jason had been in jest, Bruce went and forgot all of them. Leaving them to the cold and elements while he lived in this big ok' house.   
He had to find them, but how?!  
So far only three had given him glimpses but already everything he did was noticing different.   
Bruce finally figured out was missing, but he had no way of finding them. Meals were a boring, lonesome affair. So was the evenings and days when he wasn’t at the Center. When the man wasn’t at the Community center helping out, he traveled and explored those three rooms. Forgotten music were soon picked up by Bruce.  
From the first room, it was music that reminded the man of a bird. There were so many varieties but mostly that of hip hop and this new-fangled stuff. Mixed in was that of Belinda Carter and soundtracks.  
The second of the rooms gave the man mostly instrumentals- things like Bach and Mozart and Joseph Haydn. These songs were ones that made Bruce feel serious and stiff. He always tended to listen to Steph’s afterwards. Her music was that of popular Beatles albums and Disney. Things that gave the man hope, but mostly smile and laugh.  
Those CD’s would play throughout the manor, surprising Alfred initially. In the end, it helped with the quiet that blanketed over the house just a tad. It was good to hear those lyrics and rhythms once again to the old man’s ears.


	4. Room of Adventure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas folks! I would have posted this earlier but I was traveling home from a family thing and so I never got a chance. But because it's Christmas and I am really into this time of year for many reasons, I'd thought I'd share. 
> 
> May all your Christmases be bright and cheery and a Happy New Year! Keep Reading and Smiling Guys! The world needs more laughter and hope.

PORTALS4  
The room that held adventure  
Bruce grew more and more e curious about those that were apparently his children. Every once in a while in the photo album there would be. Dark haired beauty. The man could see that this girl and Damian were possibly blood related.   
The two shared features that Bruce would catch as very familiar and suspiciously familiar.  
It was the fourth door that opened new questions for the man. Inside was a very clean almost unlived in.what was there gave off a very confusing mental picture ire.   
On a wall were pictures of expensive feminine things- popular celebrities and boy bands. Over the window hung frilly lac curtains. Draped over the back of a chair was a black motorcycle jacket. It’s helmet had been placed atop the bookshelf. Archery stuff hung from hooks on the wall. A vanity with numerous bottles was across from the bed. Deep purple was everywhere along with black.   
The coat hooks held several hats and scarves. On the desk were several unfinished papers alongside an open book. Bruce picked up the journal, reading the last entry that had been handwritten. It was short but the last paragraph stuck with him, striking something that Bruce would have believed he would never forget. ‘There were so many ways that he could’ve helped them and left them their souls. Don’t tell me about the law. I’m more interested in justice.’  
Justice… What did that word mean exactly? Had any of them gotten their justice? What had that word been so important once upon a time? Bruce looked around the room, again. The man noticed things with new eyes as a sense of who this was crept fully into view.  
On the bookshelf were creased books. One of them was a book of Zorro and several other classics where the hero was an outlaw character. This was a room where a girl who had everything didn’t have the one thing she wanted. Instead it looked like she had more. This daughter of his fought for those who had no justice, Bruce could easily see her becoming a lawyer. Had she? Has this brave little girl gone to fight those who stood in the way of justice and righteousness? There were pictures of her on the walls. In most of them there was a tall blonde whose smile was everything you would want to see. Just seeing the girl made Bruce hear a voice.   
‘Before I left, Helena, I told you that we never belonged here. But you were the one to tell me that home is where you make it. I guess you were right after all.’ Blue eyes stared at each other before the blonde walked out the door.   
Home, these children of his weren’t at home. Bruce had to fix what the man had broken. Helena- the daughter who he couldn’t remember but was after his heart in the way she couldn’t bear to stand. She had been raised as the princess of Gotham, given everything she ever wanted or desired, and she turns around and calls people out for their trash ‘I can see why your name is Toro. You are nothing but Bull!’. This girl fought tooth and nail for the injustice in the world, being bold as a lioness- a Huntress at times.  
The closet door had been left open slightly revealing its contents. Shoved into a back corner was a pile of rope. Bruce picked the rope up to put it on its shelf, properly, only to reveal that of a tattered black and purple pile of clothing. A belt and other armour pieces were also in the pile. Seeing the unmistakable symbol of the white cross, Bruce paused. A loud angry voice yelled in his memory. ‘If you like hurting women. Try hurting me!’   
Bruce recognized this symbol, the man traced it reverently. It showed up in the papers along with those of other vigilantes. Bruce never imagined that those ghost stories would be real, but why would this be here? The costume and cape were those of the fabled Huntress. A woman in Gotham that despised the crime and injustice. Much like how Helena has. 

 

Could Huntress and Helena, who fight for Justice… Could they be the same? And what of his sons and other daughter? Were they also in on this unlawful activities as well? 

 

“How did things always get so complicated?” The man wondered out loud, gathering the clothes up and putting them somewhere safe. So that no one could find them but he could still investigate and catalogue all of the ‘Vigilante’s’ weapons.


	5. The room that ran red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a few have asked for this one especially. And seeing how this is one of my absolute favorite characters in DC, I hope I do him justice.

The room that ran red

The Fifth room had been Jason’s. Bruce didn’t know how he knew this but the man knew it instantly. After learning about Helena and her possibility of being Huntress the man took even greater steps to know of the others. Nightwing had been the first to appear. It was believed he was the original Robin. The man was a performer through and through. Bruce could see that. After him, was another Robin- this one’s story ended in tragedy- killed by the Joker.  
Learning that fact had garnered frightening emotions in the man. His heart filled with burning flames of righteous anger while being stock cold and frozen with terror. Alongside them flew up- protectiveness, endlessly deep sadness and overwhelming pain. His gut clenched with the shards and whirlwinds of it all.   
His teeth clanked together with a loud ‘snap’.  
It was Jason, who the man met first. The young man showed up at the community center. Bruce didn’t know who it was until after. The same man appeared in Steph’s family album. When Bruce did, he remembered. Not everything entirely but he remembered Jason.  
Jason who was all fire, passion, and hope. Jason had been the strongest of them all but the boy still didn’t believe that he was. How Jason had been the first. Not to be taken in- that was Dick. Where the elder had only ever been his ward- Jason had been his son. The first to be adopted. The boy had disappeared for three horribly long overwhelming years, not returning until just a man.   
His room was not what Bruce had expected. There was a brown leather jacket tossed in the corner but on the walls were everything you’d imagine a fifteen year old boy to be obsessed with. Rock ‘n’ Roll posters featuring Kansas, Guns ‘n’ Roses, and Journey hung. There were also movie posters- Frankenstein’s Monster, and the Bride of Frankenstein. All done in their classic 1990’s style proudly. The one that seemed to catch Bruce’s eye the most was the Dracula poster. It somehow seemed just a little too much but fit with the boy’s sense of humor somehow.  
On the bookshelf sat a picture of a younger Jason, whose face was lit up with happiness. Beside him was a shaggy haired Dick. Both were dressed in short sleeved shirts- it clearly being summer. In the background was that of the Grand Canyon. Beside the picture frame, the man picked up a tattered but well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice. This was clearly a boy that loved to read books.  
Memories of late nights and other books filled his mind, making Bruce yearn for the boy. His fingers unconsciously gathered the jacked up as the father looked around himself, trying to fit where his now grown son fit in.  
The once scrappy street kid who had lost everything, but still gained a loyal red haired friend and who’s sense of humor had and will be wicked and sharp as a dagger. But Bruce could still see the boy who would fight tooth and nail and everything else for justice. As a boy on the streets of Gotham, Jason had seen many horrors. Twice that amount because it was the Narrows and Crime Alley, but still the young boy had looked at Bruce with trust in his blue-green eyes.  
It had taken Bruce a broom to get the street urchin out from under the car, practically. The boy had been like a literal cat with claws. It brought a sad smile to the older man’s face. In his heart, the Billionaire set a planned course of action. He might not know who they were and who he was besides being Billionaire Bruce Wayne- but none of that mattered anymore   
He wanted the little rascals home. The only door left in the hallway was that of a single boy. The man stared at the framed paper declaring Bruce, Jason’s father. It had sat there quite a while from the look of the date on it.  
Sitting on the red blankets, Bruce remembered things he’d thought he’d lost forever. Of a little boy with black hair, blue eyes, a bloody nose, and bruised knuckles. He had stared up defiantly. The same boy, now a man, who liked fast cars and bikes. A kid who tried to pull of the rebel badass son, but in reality was just grumpy little and wouldn’t hurt anyone. A man with military training, Bruce hazarded to guess.  
Bruce smiled fondly at how the boy would randomly sing when things got too quiet or just because he was in that kind of mood.  
The man stood up abruptly, mind set and plan in motion. He had to get them home somehow. Gotham was a cruel lady to some and the man didn’t trust it to watch his children. Not anymore.


	6. The Room of Tomorrow

**The room of Tomorrow.**

I honestly didn’t know how to write this chapter because it’s so hard to portray Tim. I wanted to do Cass, but because of the whole reboot thing she isn’t a part of this anymore.

* * *

 

Bruce didn’t know what to expect what hid behind the wooden barrier. If he had known it might have sent the man running towards it even faster.

The room was a minefield of… just about everything. Every surface was cluttered with papers or projects half finished. On stacks of paper sat coffee mugs- some of them still caked with their contents, while others were just paper weights. There was a desk crammed into the corner were posters and designs were plastered to the walls. The only clean spot was where a silver laptop sat, its work only half finished on its screen.

 _‘When are you going to realize, I’m not Jason?!’_ A desperate small voice echoed in his head, reminding the man of something long ago. A boy looking about ten stared at him, blue eyes wide. Tim had always been small, so very small for his age. It made Bruce shake his head fondly. Tim, bright brilliant resourceful Tim. The one that was the total opposite of Jason. Where Jason tended to rely on his emotions, Tim would all ways see things logically. He wasn’t flashy like Dick or Passionate like Jason, or even like Damian. Tim was just….Tim.

Picking up a page, Bruce read the details and ideas written in tiny cramped letters on the lined page. It was an idea for a self-charging phone, one that worked off of solar rays. The pages underneath were various designs for different flying harnesses that looked like it was trying to get sleeker alongside that of a computer with holographic screens on a watch.

_“Hey Tim…. Uh, could you….Can I?” a Hesitant voice asked from the doorway._

_“Yeah Steph?” The boy looked up from swirling blue holographic displays._

_“Well you know how it’s Dad’s birthday in a couple weeks?” The girl nervously asked._

_“It is?” Tim tilted his head, thinking through the dates in his mind._

_“Yeah, I was wondering if you could help me with a couple projects in the basement. I’d ask Dami and Jay but they’re both in Europe visiting their mom.”_

_“Oh right. Let me close these down for the night.” Tim smiled, cracking his neck as he stood._

Bruce smiled in remembrance, knowing how the young boy was so like him and not at the same time.

This was a boy that people didn’t expect much, but was just as much a part of this family as the rest of them. Tim might have been one of the quietest out of the bunch but that didn’t mean anything. He could still keep up with his brothers, proving his worth time and time again. The boy was one of them, even though he had just been the next door neighbor for years. Tim had already joined in all of the plots and planning and revenge getting of the others before he had moved in. It just felt natural for the young genius to have his own room.

Bruce berated himself for the millionth time since finding Dick’s room. _‘How could he just_ **lose** _his kids? He was a terrible father!’_

The man pulled out the black office chair, sitting down in it as he thought. He knew who he was looking for, but he still didn’t know where. When their father lost all of their memories the six of them must have scattered to the winds. He didn’t know their patterns, where they would go if they lost their home. All he knew about his children was that they shouldn’t have had to leave. It didn’t feel right, something in him just cringed at the idea of it all. The man’s shoulders slumped, as Bruce stared at the screen of the laptop. On it was a map of Gotham with different patterns on various buildings. Looking closer, the saddened father recognized different symbols. There was several birds all done in different colors. One was a purple one, it kept rather close to that of a yellow one down near the Narrows _. ‘Those must be Steph and Damian.’_ Bruce’s eyes lit up. Near the waterfront was the symbol of another bird- this one bright red. The one staying close to the suburbs was that of a blue one with a blue bat. That only left a green bird all by its self in the business district. A White bird showed up in the area between the upper-class and the waterfront.

Smiling in triumph, the man looked at the time in the corner. _It was still too early for them to go out._ Instead he got what was a huge shock. The words read in the corner half of the screen, sent the man reeling. **“Last updated two months ago.”** That meant they could have gone anywhere! Left, something happened…….

The man closed his eyes in pain, his entire body sagging with defeat. _It was pointless, he couldn’t find them anywhere._


	7. The Silent room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, everybody, I didn’t mean for all of the heart attacks caused by shock. This one might honestly come off as extremely weird, because 1) I have only read the old Batgirl comics. So that’s where Cass comes from. I had the perfect idea for Bruce to finding his kids but it didn’t fit into Tim’s room like I had planned. But with Cass….. She tends to be the most mysterious of them all.

There was only one room left in the hallway outside his door. Bruce had found all of his boys’ and two of the girls. That only left the black haired girl that looked at everything with unique eyes.

The room was nondescript with the bed made with military corners. The room was even emptier then Damian’s if that was possible. It was like a ghost had lived here. There was a couple pictures of the family. One was of Bruce and the girl-Cass. _Her name was Cass._ One wall hung a poster of a famous Ballet. Black satin point-shoes hung on a hook beside it.

_“Why ballet though, Cass?” Dick asked curious. “I can easily teach you acrobats.”_

_The girl looked up from the movie of the ballet. Her brown eyes soft and curious. She knew her brother had been there since he arrived but didn’t move from her spot. “Discipline.” She knew her words wouldn’t communicate her full meaning. So she pointed to the movie. Trying to get the other to understand where words would not. Watching the ballerina go through each pose made the older understand._

_“It’s because of the beauty and the grace, isn’t it?” He asked, already knowing the answer._

_The girl smiled, nodding her head._

_“Alright, I think Babs could teach you. She was one once.”_

Ballet- the word was filled with grace and beauty. But it had the same discipline that Cass was familiar with from her upbringing. Bruce looked at the pictures and the things everywhere. It all highlighted times of happiness. None of them had Cass alone by herself.

Bruce turned to leave, there was nothing left in this room that he didn’t already know about.

 

* * *

 

Cass stared at her father in her room. The man was incredibly sad and lost hope in finding them.

- _Wrong, so very WRONG!-_ Her mind yelled at her. Her brothers were all the same as their dad. They lost the hope. It was so very **very** wrong. Feeling a vibration, the girl pulled out a phone. Her lips twirled upwards in a faint smile.

_-Jason: What we need is a diversion... I say Babs gets naked._

_Barbara: No._

_Jason: I could get naked._

_Barbara, Dick, Tim, Damian. : No!/ Absolutely not!/ Jason stop and think this through./ You are a disgrace, Todd._

_Steph: Uh… did you try the door?_

_Jason: What kind of idiot leaves their house unlocked when they have priceless items inside?_

_Steph: Door’s unlocked, Jay._

_Jason: I still say that we should have got Selina on this one._

 

* * *

 

That decided it for her. They needed their father. The girl slipped on the window sill silently, opening the pane and slipped inside. The man didn’t notice her. Why would he? Brue forgot all of the tricks that he had before. Brown eyes watched unhappily as he stared at the pictures of them younger. His shoulders shook with the near silence of his tears.

_All of them needed to be fixed._

She pulled out a different phone. One that she had taken from Tim’s room before he could find it. Her pale hand covered with white lines set the device on the dresser beside it. The sound was still turned on. With her mission complete, Cass left the room the way she entered.

_-Bzzzzz! Bzzzz! Bzzz!-_

Turning around, Bruce picked up the silver phone. He missed the flash of black cape in the old oak tree. If he had, the man might have tried to stop the ghostly one. But he didn’t. The display was going off with different alerts every several second, alerting the man. He opened it to the current messages.

 

* * *

 

_Dick: You handcuffed Jason to Damian?! Tim!_

_Tim: So? It’s payback for getting me thrown off that roof._

_Jason: Damian’s WAY worse then you falling! You had those wings anyway, Swan Queen!_

_Damian: Drake I demand that you release us before I get my Katanna!_

Bruce rubbed his head, knowing somehow knowing instinctively that these were his missing children. He scrolled upwards in the messages, seeing what had occurred in his absence.

* * *

 

_Damian: I will murder you in your sleep._

_Tim: Trained Assassins shouldn’t threaten people, Demon Bird. I had nothing to do with any of this._

_Damian: Who’s threatening? I was warning you. How do you explain how the systems all crashed? And the only thing left is your Red Robin logo plastered on everything._

_Tim: I have no clue what you are talking about. Titans have been dealing with NOWHERE in the last week._

_Jason: A little help here guys? Surrounded by ninjas, remember?_

* * *

 

Just what where they all thinking? Bruce scanned even more texts from them

_Jason: It really didn’t go as bad as it could have, Little Red._

_Tim: A girl is severally traumatized and her guardian is in the hospital, Jay!_

_Jason: I didn’t say it went perfectly._

_Damian: -Tt- idiots. I could have handled this on my own._

_Jason: Not on your life, kiddo._

_Tim: No way in hell, BratBat_

Frowning, the man scanned the next couple of messages, wondering why Dick wasn’t present in any of these until last week.

_Tim: Did you just go through those guys’ pockets?_

_Jason: Yes, I did._

_Tim: Why?_

_Jason: Looking for loose change, BabyBird. Bills don’t pay themselves…especially with Harper around._

_Tim: Jay! There’s a rule about that!_

_Steph: No there’s not. I checked._

_Tim: How?! What? You-_

_Steph: yes me. I do come by and visit the family, Tim._

_Tim: You got into the Batfamily?!_

_Steph: Like it’s hard?_

_Jay: Good one, Blondie. Maybe we can stop and draw on the case this weekend._

_Steph: BTW, we need new markers. Alfred won’t tell me where he hid them._

_Dick: Didn’t we get you people to stop drawing on that thing?!_

_Damian: They obviously don’t need it._

_Jason: For that you lose memberships rights, Kiddo._

_Steph: He was only an honorary member._

_Tim: You guys are making my phone go crazy. I’m kinda busy here with the league_

_Jason: would you tell GA to get his act together and make up with his son? Roy is giving me a migraine with all of his so called toys._

_Steph: Ooooh, Can I come by before he leaves?_

Bruce sat on the bed, still reading. The man had a feeling that since the seven of them had no parental figure since h lost his memories they had gotten into quite a lot of trouble.

* * *

 

_Dick: What are you guys doing?_

_Jay: Right now or later?_

_Dick: …..Both?_

_Jason; Oh, breaking into Dad’s study and going through his files. Should be a couple hours of peace and quiet._

_Damian: I am in the middle of kicking all of these impersonators out of Gotham. There is only room for the true Robin._

_Tim: Different continent remember? League and Titans need my help at the moment._

_Helena: Spending time with Karen and talking about multiversity family issues._

_Dick: Guys! It’s UNO Night, remember?!_

_Jason: You’re still not forgiven, Wingnut._

_Steph: If you think that will help you get into the Dead Robin’s Club, think again, Pretty Boy! We had to get here the hard way!_

 

 


	8. The Newest Little Bird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically the first result of Skyla123 on Fanfiction reminding me that Bruce had a couple more kids after the basic seven. I didn’t forget about Terry and Matt on purpose, it just happened. Also, this is smashing of Batman Beyond, the new 52 and some basic time smashing of things. I couldn’t remember how far in the future Terry is originally. Ooops? Also, Pandora is a real person in DC Comics. I have no ownership, sorry

PORTALS 8

The Newest Little Bird.

* * *

 

Matthew McGinis had experienced it all, you would say. The boy had lost his dad- Warren McGinis and years later gained his biological father who also didn’t live anymore. The youngest of the Waynes had never met his older siblings, well everyone who wasn’t Terry or Tim. Apparently there was some unspoken rule that stopped everyone from doing this. It might have been a really terrible falling out, Matt hazarded to guess. The ones the boy knew of were only reminders of who not to become like.

Terry was an alright brother, but being Batman was something that Matt hasn’t gotten used to yet. But seeing how this was the family business, the young boy eventually took up the mantle of Robin. He didn’t want to lose his brother to the endless Jokerz like his dad. It had been hard with both brothers wanting him safely home, but eventually they had relented.

Tonight had been pretty basic; the two doing patrol around Neo-Gotham. It went rather painless and quick until Batman and Robin encountered a woman who appeared in their path. Twin pistols were holstered on her hips under her faded red ankle length coat.

“You two need to go back to the past, fifty years.” Pandora pleaded with them. “It’s the only way to fix all of this.”

“Fix what?” Terry as Batman paused, seeing the older woman.

“Who are you?” Robin tilted his head, asking. The boy’s smaller frame sidled up by Batman’s.

“My name is Pandora. Please, you must listen to me. This is the only way to save everything from getting worse.”

“Pandora was never really a villain or a hero, Terry. If she has sought you out, listen.” Tim’s voice came over the speakers in the both cowls.

“Hey Lady, would ya mind telling us what we’ll be fixing if we listen to ya?” Robin asked, the younger already ahead of his brother.

“Robin.” Batman started to growl in warning.

“I need to send you back in time in order to fix all of this. I’m sorry, this is the only way.” The woman begged for forgiveness, aiming the pistols at the two.

“Terry, Matt! Get out of th-!” Tim’s voice broke off as a magic gathered the two in its embrace.

“I’m sorry, but you two need to go to him.” Pandora whispered, her purple hair moving in nonexistent wind. “Now for the rest of it.”

* * *

 

Bruce found himself in front of the two empty rooms that were in the end of the hall. Even knowing that they should be empty never swayed the man from his quest. Instead, the first of the rooms weren’t even empty. It held futuristic technology mixed easily with older looking things. A TV was projected on the wall, where credits of the Gray Ghost sat frozen.

Bruce knew that movie, it was the one which his parents took him to see. It was the last time he had remembered them, but he didn’t know what happened after.

The bed was basically a mattress on a frame with no head board, but green and red covers lay on top. Grey was also scattered throughout the room as well. On the desk sat several red gadgets. Their insides laid scattered like their owner wasn’t finished with them yet.

A school bag was hanging from the back of a chair, its books shoved in alongside papers.

Catching sight of one crinkled on the floor, Bruce picked up the paper. AT the top of page was written in rather sloppy hand writing- Matt McGinis.

Next to it was a date one that was close to fifty years in the future. Who was this kid? Bruce looked around himself closer. There on the window sill sat several small rather complex robot figures. There were Batman, Robin, Batgirl and a rather interesting character of a black dog.

The suits were slimmer, less than those that Bruce knew the heroes wore these days. Robin didn’t have a cape, instead a metal harness with wings lay. The small figure carried a staff with electricity decorated along it. Batman was also drastically different. His cowl covered his entire face and the symbol was a rather V-shaped red bat.

“Never thought you’d be the one to show up, Old Man.” A young male voice echoed from behind the man.

Turning, Bruce was met with a young boy with black shaggy hair staring up at him. He wore jeans and an old sports jersey.

“Do I know you?” Bruce stared with confusion. This boy was starling familiar to him, but not.

The boy snorted, crossing his arms. “Time travel, it will get you every time.” Shaking his head the boy smiled. “You won’t meet me for a good long time.”

“You are Matt, then.” Bruce’s heart fell a little in his chest. It wasn’t one of his kids from this time then. He held out the paper with the essay in explanation.

“Yup.” Matt smiled, grasping the page with his hand. “Ever thought of trying to make sure everybody didn’t take to the wind at first chance, Old man? It gets lonely in the future with only Tim and Terry.”

“You are one of my children then?” Bruce watched as the boy walked past.

“I’m the youngest out of the lot. I never met my older siblings other then Tim.” The page found it’s home on the desk. “In the future, things can be a little hard at times. Not having any family around isn’t easy.”

Bruce pulled the chair out from the desk, listening to the boy explain. “Why are you telling me all of this, Matt? Won’t it break the future?”

The boy snorted, crossing his arms. “In my time, I only have my mom and Terry, and Tim. Terry and I were results of the world needing a batman. You are our dad, but I never knew you when we were growing up.” Matt shrugged, “If I could change that and meet my other siblings, I wouldn’t give up that chance. Bad things happened to a lot of them because you weren’t around.

Jason ended up being the world’s version of Deathstroke. Damian got killed in a bid for the Demon’s Head. Tim ended up being the reincarnation of Joker for a little bit.”

Bruce’s heart sank lower. What Matt was telling him was worse then he’d imagine the world to be. In trepidation the man asked, voice soft. “What happened to the rest, Matt?”

“I never got the story behind Grayson’s exit, but it was big fight. HE still won’t come home even with you dead.”

“Tell me how I can stop this, Matt. There must be a way.” Bruce felt an urgent feeling well up inside. Matt hadn’t told him what had happened to the rest of them, but his gut told him it wasn’t good.

“I don’t know. Maybe Terry can help. He is Batman after all.” Matt shrugged, reaching under the bed to pull out a green belt. HE slung it over his shoulder and headed out of the room. “Come on.”

Bruce followed down to the study and through the grandfather clock. That was definitely new. “I have a top secret door in my study. That leads to a Cave filled with a cow, bats and cars… Why would I- Oh”

“You don’t remember the Batcave under the house?” Matt shrugged. Thinking for a moment before talking again. “Nevermind.”


	9. The room of Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce never opens that last door. No, he's got better things to do- mainly that of dragging his wayward children home after a little Bird tells him a thing or two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The piece in Italic, it's not mine. It's one of the best panels in Batman comics that I love. I can't remeber the exact issue, but I'm pretty confident it's from Battle for the Cowl or something N52. Also, very sorry to everyone who's followed and or subscribed and left notes and are just generally lurking. I didn't mean for this to not get finished for an entire year, I just didn't have any 'get up and go' in my life at the moment. So this has sat paitently waiting for me to finish for almost two years. Also, this chapter totally didn't go the direction I intended.

**PORTALS 9**

**Terrance**

**The door of Hope**

* * *

 

Terry wasn’t at all surprised to find himself in a different, older looking Gotham. Time travel had happened to him and Matt before. Not only were that but in his Gotham, Time travel accidents as common as a head cold happening. What got him was where exactly he landed in Gotham. Pandora had told Matt and him that they had to fix something that caused the future.

A future where it was only Terry, Tim, and Matt. There was no hope in that world, not for his other brothers. Terry only knew of them because of looking through old history books. Not even Tim brought their names up anymore. And Barbara Gordon the Commissioner? She was so full of an old hurt that she tried to hide from everyone but in reality you could still see it as raw as the day it had been wrought upon her.

Terry swung himself off the building ledge towards the street, making the red wing flaps on the batsuit spread out as he dove. This was Gotham, a city at its core that never changed- it would always grow and flourish in the darkness and hell that other cities choked to death on. That’s what made Gotham so unique- she had a scrappiness to her that was seen in all of her people.

Terry glided through the streets, confident in his ability to find something that seemed well odd for this this time.

And find it he did, on the corner of Chaos Avenue and Liberty Row. A small diner with huge plate shop windows showed the young Bat seven people. They were all rather young, the oldest couldn’t have been older than 21 at most. But the clincher? The youngest looked exactly like Matt and Terrance when they were younger. All of them had black hair, except for one, and blue saddened hopeless eyes.

They were gathered around several tables pushed together, nursing various cups and dishes of comfort foods. Their postures were all conveying how tired and upset each of them were. It wasn’t with each other, Terry could see that much. They looked like someone could blow them over, like a man blowing out candles on a cake.

Terry landed silently across the street, watching them interact with each-other, after he hit the invisibility on his suit. It wouldn’t be a good idea to have them believe him an imposter or danger to them. The young 19 year old man didn’t know what made him stop and look in to that window in the first place instead of trying to contact Matt, but he did it anyway.  They looked so sad, and Terry couldn’t stand that.

* * *

 

             Bruce followed the young boy who looked like him down into the Batcave below his house. Behind padded the Great Dane and the cat rode on his back.

“I don’t know why Pandora brought Terry and I to this time, but if it means getting my family whole in the future, I’m okay with trying to track Terry down the hard way.” Matt told him, walking further into the cave.

            “I know you spoke of only having Tim and Terry, but how does this all lead back to me?” Bruce hesitantly followed. He knew that eventually he must become the feared Bat of Gotham once more, but was it truly what his children needed him for? Was it truly better this way? Only being a simple man without all of the responsibilities and missions that must of drove his kids away in the first place?

            Matt spun around, disbelief on his young face. “You’re Batman. Gotham has as much need for the Bat as Batman needs a Robin.”

Bruce shook his head slowly. “That cowl has only brought tragedy and anger and hurt, Matt. They don’t need that. Gotham doesn’t need that. It’s better if it dies.”

            Matt stared at his father, trying to get him to understand. “But it _can’t_. Batman can’t die. It’s what Terry and Tim have been saying for years. I didn’t understand until now, but you can’t _not_ be Batman! Bruce Wayne is as much Batman as Batman is Gotham.”

            Bruce sat down in the empty chair before the huge mainframe, head slowly lowering until he looked at his shoes. “I can’t do this Matt. All I want is my children home safe. I can’t keep letting them out on the streets, constantly putting themselves in danger for a mission I don’t even understand.”

            Matt looked forlornly at the cases proudly displaying older costumes and names. “But don’t you see? They’ll do it anyway, because to them Batman is hope. Without Batman there is no hope. And I know what a world without hope is like, Old Man.

            “It’s Tim worried every nigh about his last two brothers, knowing he will fail us like he did the others some way. Its Damian dead in a graveyard long before I was born because he knew the city because of his grandfather- the Demon’s Head, in order to save Tim from becoming Ra’s vessel. It’s Jason turning the Red Hood into a future Deathstroke, only working for clients that can pay him the highest bid and always driving fear into people. It’s Dick who hasn’t come back to the family in years because of something no one remembers.” Matt’s voice rose with each brother’s name, until he was shouting at Bruce with tears streaming down his face. “The world but more importantly Gotham and your kids need Batman, Bruce. We always have. Batman is our hope, our protector and our savior. Without it, there is nothing for us.”

            Bruce was taken aback by this small ten year boy who tried so hard to seem brave and strong, but in actuality he was hurting. Matt hadn’t had any family except for Terry, his mom, and Tim. He wanted to know his other siblings but the world he came from stopped that from happening.

Above their heads sat seven doors hiding their little worlds, beside them lay two doors that haven’t been filled yet in this time. They would be waiting to be filled for another fifty years, Bruce now knew. But in their time, it would only be three doors that ever opened and closed for their occupants- the others will sit empty collecting dust until the end of time.

            “What do we do first then, Matt?” The father asked the boy from the future.

            “Now? You put on the Cowl and we go flying.” Matt smiled, something genuine and full and so innocent it filled Bruce with something he couldn’t name.

* * *

 

  Jim Gordon was a man of many traits, one of them was his constant need for justice. He stuck by his men through time and time again, often times leading the Police Force through their toughest times. But the one thing that Jim Gordon knew in the bottom of his heart- it was the fact that Gotham needed Batman. And without the Bat, crime crawled up out of the darkness taking ahold of the city by the very lifeblood that kept her running. They were a disease and without the Batman- it was hopeless.

            Somehow the Bat became a symbol for the people. But to his allies that lived in the darkness where the Bat lived, he was something more. And Jim saw how it was tearing the city- _his city_ to its very knees.

            Nightwing didn’t do as many flashy flips and danced through the streets like he used to. Red Robin would seem to catch himself looking into the shadows with a question on his lips. Spoiler stayed just a bit closer to Robin, often times just touching the boy who hid behind a hood. Red Hood was the most violent any of them had seen him since his return to the family. Black Bat slipped through the shadows, a sadness and slowness to her that she never had before. And Huntress? She was probably the worst of them- Huntress jumped into frays and battles without a way out. There was a craziness sort of untouchable way she fought the mob these days. Like she didn’t care if she made it out alive. Jim knew that Oracle was doing her best to keep them together but even the information broker wasn’t unaffected by the bat’s disappearance.

            So Jim stood out on the roof of Gotham’s prescient every night staring up to the patch of brightly lit clouds that highlighted the Bat symbol. Night after night, he stood hopefully as Gotham crumbled around him in grief and chaos, choosing to wait for a Bat that might never return to the sky.

            Harvey Bullock, a good friend and a better detective spoke from behind him. _“Hate to say it, Commish, but it’s been two months. Leaving the light on for him, it’s…”_

            Jim spoke, his eyes scanning the sky. “It’s not just for him, Lieutenant. It’s for the for the scum of the city, the ones who think Gotham’s their damn playground now. It’s for the ones on our side, the other side too. The ones who’s hurting. Because they know him. The man underneath that mask, the one who’s missing at this moment. Hell, it’s for the whole damn city, Lieutenant. So like I said, the Light stays on.”

Bullock stared out at the night, knowing he was right. “He hasn’t shown up for two months, Boss. What makes this one any different?”

Jim sighed, setting his Styrofoam cup of coffee down on the ledge. Looking out at his city, he answered truthfully. “I don’t know, Harvey. I just know he will comeback. He always has in the past.”

            Out in the darkness, Jim thought his eyes were playing a trick on him. For there on a garyole on Oak Street, three blocks away was darker shape. A pointy eared shape with a flair for the dramatics. The figure was hunched looking down at the sea of people and cars, the wind blowing his cape forward and out, making the scalloped winged edges flair. The figure stayed that way for several seconds before launching himself out into the night sky.

            Jim Gordon blinked and took off his glasses, cleaned them and blinked some more. “Bullock, did you see what I saw?” He asked hesitantly, almost afraid of breaking a spell that wove itself around the two men.

            “Yeah, Commish. It looks like your Bat finally showed up.” Harvey’s voice was equally full of amazement and disbelief, sounding like the man couldn’t get enough air to answer properly.

* * *

 

            Jason stared desolately into what might have been his fifth strawberry shake of the night, sitting in the middle of an all night diner with his six siblings. There was a TV tuned to the local news channel behind the bar. The Anchor was Hope Craft, one of the few who wasn’t known for being a total trollop like Vicky Vale was famous for. Jason didn’t really bother to listen to the station, until something caught his attention- that of the news story.

            “Tonight’s main story: Where is the Bat of Gotham city? Coming up at our 11 o’clock hour, we will be having an interview with Jim Gordon, the Police Commissioner on his thoughts. Stay tuned, this is Gotham’s source of local news. I’m Hope Craft and you’re watching GVPK, the news channel that works for you.”

            Damian growled, wadding up a napkin and shredding it between his fingers as he slumped lower. “He’s not gone. He can’t be gone. Don’t they know that?”

            “Damian, it’s been two months, if Alfred knew that B remembers, he would have contacted us by this time.” Steph pushed her precious syrup doused waffles around on her plate idly.

            “Yeah, even Oracle hasn’t heard anything.” Tim was propped over a cup of the diner’s strongest coffee, eyes showing purple bags underneath as he looked at his brothers.

            “Give it time.” Cass spoke softly, head leaning against Steph’s shoulder as she spoke softly.

            The waitress, whose name tag proclaimed her to be ‘Abby’ headed over to their table. A kind caring set of eyes looked at the seven sad siblings. “How’re we doing tonight, kids?” She asked sticking a pencil in her white hair.

“We’re good, Abs. Thanks for asking.” Dick barely garnered a smile for the woman who let them come night after night.

            “Still hasn’t shown has he?” Her manner was that of understanding. Hard working calloused hands placed her pad in the pocket of her apron as she slid an empty chair over. “The Bat will show, he always has before. Sometimes he disappears and later he comes back. But the thing a’bought Gotham that no one understands, is the Bat is Gotham. He’s a’much Gothamanite as you or me, kids.”

            “It’s been two months.” Helena spoke, leaning her head against the cold glass of the window. “He’s never been gone this long.”

            “Hey, e’ll be back. You know the legend of the Bat a’much as I do, maybe more so.” Abby grabbed a forgotten hand on the table with a gentle yet steel like grip. “I may only be a waitress on the edge of the Narrows, but I know this city and the people in it. I’d like to say that I know Batman and his flock, and the thing I know best of all is that he’ll be back. He is Gotham’s child. She wouldn’t let him get killed, so keep your chins up, okay?”


End file.
